Heir of the Bloodied Fortune
by AquilaTaleMaster
Summary: Years after the murder of Empress Jessamine and the tyranny of the Lord Regent, Julia Boyle had been raised by her aunts to be the heir fit for the Boyle family fortune, but she is plagued by the murder of her mother all those years ago. Survival is her main goal, and yet life seems to make it difficult for the struggling heir. (Rewrite of A Boyle's Daughter).
1. Roses Turnt To Illusions

" _The child would play in the garden of roses, with her mother's slim hand in hers. The hateful words spoken about the woman were ignored in this garden, as no one can get in, and no one can hurt them. But now the child is a woman, who is unlike her mother. She still plays in the garden, but the roses turned into illusions."_

She couldn't understand why, but the parties that her aunts hosted in their luxurious home felt forced, almost out of place despite the heavy air that was ripe with laughter and boring conversations. People all around her gave their congratulations, shaking and kissing her hand, their faces pulled in a smile that she could see was just a mask. Living as an aristocrat since birth; this would be her life. Snide comments and filthy looks hidden behind smiles and kind words. The party was for her aunt Lydia's birthday, the older woman ensuring that the party always had the most beautiful music playing in the background; the loving notes the only thing that was calming Julia Boyle down.

The parties that were held at her home were detested by the heir. Ever since that night she came downstairs after a nightmare, and walked straight into another one, she hated having people in her home that she did not know. Their intentions were as hidden as the faces behind the masks.

The glass in her hand was swirled softly, the red wine that was held in it following the movement without ever being spilt. Staring down at it with her dark, calculating eyes, her plump lips pursed in thought. Just then, a deep voice laughed beside her and pointed out. "Your aunt knows how to throw exquisite parties, Lady Boyle."

A quiet hum was her only response. Her gaze moved from the wine in her glass, and moved to the man that the voice belonged to. With combed back hair that was coloured a mousy brown, and blue eyes that sparkled with anticipation, the man was nothing short of handsome. Julia found herself going over his youthful features; his strong jawline and thin lips that were pulled up in a smirk. A bored tone was evidence in her voice. "I find it dragging myself, Daniel."

"Oh? Surely, someone of your significance would find these events anything but?" Daniel complimented, adopting a coy tone when he added. "If I may be so bold, your outfit compliments your stunning beauty even moreso tonight."

"Thank you. You're too kind." She mumbled. Daniel had always been infatuated with her since they were children. Showering her with gifts and compliments about her beauty, but his feeling were never going to be reciprocated by her. Despite that, the gifts he gave her were rare and expensive, so that was one use for keeping him around.

"I'm not being kind if it's the truth, am I?" He smirked, moving closer to the heiress. She ignored the advance, even the hand that wrapped itself around her waist, but it was when he moved to kiss her was when she objected with fake embarrassment.

"Daniel!" she gasped melodramatically, using her hand to keep him from coming closer. "My beautiful self is being saved for when I choose a husband. Surely, you understand the need for tradition with my bloodline."

"Of course, Lady Boyle." He accepted, removing his hand with a grumble. "That was uncourteous of me."

"It seems that the wine has gone to your head. Why don't you be a dear and go sober up?" she suggested, waving her hand to dismiss the drunk lord. His face showed embarrassment at the rejection, and yet there was something in his eyes that was different. Something darker. However, Julia couldn't examine further as he just dismissed himself, turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowds of laughing aristocrats.

The lady just stood there, her face losing the playful smirk and instead just looking solemn and unimpressed. Taking a sip of her wine, she moved with a regal grace about her, weaving through the guests that were attempting to initiate a conversation with her; only to be scorned as her patience for these people finally drained out. At that moment in time, she just wanted some alone time and fresh air. The heels on her boots tapped rhythmically against the marble floor, her reflection clear on the polished surface, and yet the sound was absorbed into the surroundings.

Passing through the library to get to the balcony, the young woman paused for a moment, her eyes looking forwards when they felt the pull to the portrait that was hung over the roaring fire. Her heart ached. The pain felt like a knife was being plunged into her chest and twisted, and she finally gave into her temptation to gaze on the magnificent piece of art. Despite the quality of the piece, the emotional agony that it caused her was evident; her eyes staring at the tightly coiled bun of blond hair that the woman in the painting had, her back to the viewers and would remain like that for eternity. The pale white outfit, giving the woman a feeling of purity, was very similar to Julia's own, and both looked identical save for the black hair that the heir kept in a bun.

Moving closer to it, a fragile hand brushed against the dark frame, Julia's voice barely a whisper when she muttered. "I miss you, mother."

Removing her hand, she took in a deep breath to control her emotions, adopting her stoic expression once more as she left the portrait alone. She left the library, opening both doors and immediately shivered when the wind blew in, causing goosebumps to appear all over her skin when she exited nonetheless. Over the balcony, she could see the beautiful gardens that were kept to suitable standard by her gardeners, the flowers that she planted herself visible just below. Beautiful bushes of roses. She could recall when she planted them; a remembrance to her mother, who's favourite flowers were roses. A genuine smile came across her lip, Julia placed the glass down and leaned her arms against the small wall that stopped her from falling into the garden.

The powerful wind blew across the trimmed grass, the movement resembling waves across the sea. The sight was beautiful, quiet, and most of all Julia could enjoy the sights without bothersome people attempting to interact with her every five minutes. Having grown up in this lifestyle, she was still annoyed with all the social graces she had to uphold with other people. That, and the needless implication that soon she would have to marry someone. Her aunts had told her that, due to her twenty-first birthday coming up, and their not so subtle hints that the man she should offer her hand to be Daniel Brisby. He was someone of her level, but he was cowardly and useless; someone she did not want having his hands on her fortune.

She wanted a husband. The man she wanted to offer her hand to had to be strong and able to care for her, like the Lord Regent was to her mother. They may not have been married but the man treated Julia like his own flesh and blood. He scolded her when she was misbehaving, and yet she also approved of her when she done something good. The only thing she disapproved of was when he made it clear he didn't like her playing rather than studying. She could recall him, standing tall compared to the short stature of her when she was ten years old.

 _A moment at play is a moment wasted, Julia._ He would snap, sending her away to revise history and numbers. It was boring. She wanted to play hide and seek, or fake battles, something that would stem the loneliness she felt as a child. Even though he denied her those privileges, she still thought of him as more of a father than her biological one; the horrid man never spending any time with her even before her birth. She never saw him. No one would tell her his identity or what he was like, only reminding her that he abandoned Esma when she was pregnant with Julia, and never even cared enough to see his child. Her relationship with her mother was better, if only strained by Esma's excessive drinking that stemmed down to her aunts scolding her for her drunken and promiscuous antics.

Honestly, Julia saw more men leave her mother's room than she saw in the streets of Dunwall.

Regardless, she adored her mother more than anything else in the world, and when she was murdered at the party all those years ago; Julia could never forget it. All she can see when she dreams are the blood and the pale, lifeless face of Esma, with the screams loud in her ears and the smell of copper stinging her nose. She didn't have a good night sleep since that fateful night. The stress and sleep depravity had affected her health tremendously, her fits and lung problems getting worse.

Her chest ached, the feeling of her throat closing sending her into a small panic, before she reached into the pocket for one of her special cigarettes. It was strange how these helped her breathing, whereas the ones that the other aristocrats smoked only caused her condition to worsen. The doctor gave an unnecessarily complicated explanation as to why that was, as something inside the cigarette helped the passageways in her lungs and throat. Honestly, she couldn't even recall the name of the stuff they put in her cigarettes. Unable to find a reason to care, she just placed the cigarette in her mouth and lit it, dragging on it before she kept it in her lungs. After a few seconds, she exhaled and already the smell of herbs within the sticks could be smelt.

From behind, she heard a feminine voice call out. "Why are you out here, Julia?"

Without turning around, the heir could tell that it was her Aunt Lydia behind her from the worried tones in her voice, taking another breath of her cigarette before muttering. "I just needed fresh air."

"You're smoking. Have you had another attack?" she pointed out, staring at the stick in Julia's hand.

"I'm fine."

A grunt was the only reply she got from her aunt. Slowly, she could see Lydia appear beside her from the corner of her eye, still staring outwards onto the immaculate gardens without saying a words. The two women stood there silently, instead just enjoying each other's company whilst the sound of the party continued to echo from within. Glancing over her shoulder, Lydia returned her gaze to her niece with a soft whisper. "You feel it too, don't you?"

"I always feel it whenever you or Aunt Waverly throw a party." Julia mumbled, lowering the hand holding the cigarette as she exhaled another plumage of scented smoke. A short cough came after it, but the panic she felt had long gone with the tightness in her chest and throat; her voice sharp when she added. "I always think he's going to appear out of the crowds and get one of us. Just like with mother."

"I know you miss her dearly." Lydia noted, staring at the younger one with sympathy in her eyes. Julia made no attempt to look at her aunt. The sympathy she received was welcomed as Lydia was the only aunt that gave any to Julia, whereas Waverly was more cold with the child ever since her birth. To her, Julia reminded the youngest Boyle sister of the biggest mistake Esma made; sleeping with the heir's father.

"You must miss her as well, Aunt Lydia. She was your sister." She pointed out, finally looking at Lydia after flicking her cigarette away. The stub fell down into the dark gardens below, the light from the still burning end disappearing when it hit the ground, most likely falling into one of the bushes that lined the building.

"She was a pain most of the time… But yes, I do miss her." Lydia acknowledged. Slowly, she lifted her hand and intertwined it with Julia's, holding onto it like she would disappear if the elder Boyle didn't. The sick woman allowed it. She normally detested closeness and touching from other people, but she relished it from her own family, returning the tightness of Lydia's grip with a soft frown. With both of them watching the grass in the distance, the silence was welcomed and comfortable, the presence of her family member putting Julia's mind at ease.

"I remember when you first planted those rose bushes." Her aunt recalled, a genuine smile playing on her lips as she continued. "After what happened to Esma, you told the gardeners that you wanted to put rose bushes where you used to play with her, for remembrance. I remember watching you planting them yourself, refusing to let anyone else help you. If there's anything you've inherited from her, dear, it's Esma's stubbornness."

"You know when you and Waverly kept bothering me to marry a husband soon?" Julia spoke up, still staring ahead whilst Lydia turned to face her, her fingers picking at the gloves she wore. "Sometimes, I wish that my mother was still here. She would bother me to find someone like the Lord Regent. When I finally found someone, she would gush over them and make inappropriate remarks about us, but on our wedding day… I would look into her eyes and see that above anything else, she was proud in me."

"Your mother may not be there for your wedding, but me and Waverly will be. When you walk down that aisle to your husband, I will be proud for the both of us." Lydia promised, before she stood upright once more. "Come on, dear. It's time for cake."

"I'll be in there in a moment." Julia brushed off, watching as her aunt just nodded and then disappeared inside once more. Turning her head around, she stared at the rose bushes on more time, remembering that day that Lydia described to her in vivid detail.

" _Lady Boyle, maybe it'll be better if you let the skilled gardeners plant your mother's rose bushe-?"_

" _No!" A young Julia snapped, her face dirtied as well as her hands, her eyes narrowing at the servant that was minding her. Kneeling in the ploughed dirt, she had already made a hole to put the plant in, but most of the dirt that was dug out had landed on her cream dress and exposed skin. The servant coiled back from the loud protest, her face stunned before she just solemnly nodded and allowed the ten year old continue her work._

 _Her hands ached from the manual labour, something that she had not come into contact with all her life, and when she glanced at the potted bush sapling, she couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. It has only been weeks since Esma's murder, and the scene had been burnt into the back of her mind forever. Alone, hurt and scared that the man would come back for her or her family, Julia just rubbed her eyes to get rid of the tears. Despite all the emotions she was feeling, the strongest was betrayal. The Lord Regent was not at the party that night. If he had, maybe he could have saved her. In Julia's eyes, he was the ruler of the entire city and country, and yet he failed to save her mother. He betrayed them both._

" _Julia?" Waverly called out, her voice stern as she pointed out. "You're getting your clothes all dirty. Let the gardeners do the work and come inside!"_

" _No!" she repeated herself, dropping the shovel she was using and began to drag the sapling over to her, lifting it up with surprising gentleness despite her angered words. When her aunt called her name again, she dropped the sapling into the hole and explained. "This is my mother's bush! HERS! I have to be the one who plants it!"_

" _No one will be disappointed if you have some help, my lady." The servant tried to coerce, kneeling down beside the snivelling child. "I could help. Just us two."_

 _Julia paused, staring at the lopsided sapling in the hole, before she just nodded at the request. Rubbing her eyes, she sniffed quietly when she agreed. "Just you."_

" _Alright, just me." She smiled sadly, taking the plant and straightening it out. With her help, the sapling was planted properly and stood healthily amongst the tilled earth. Staring at it, Julia couldn't bring herself to smile at her hard work; her face cold and distant whilst the servant just watched her with worried eyes. The child was quiet for the first few weeks, and in fact that was the first time since her mother's death that she showed any emotion, even if it was anger._

" _My lady, would you like to water the plant now?" she asked, waiting for any sort of response. When she received a sharp nod, she turned to the gardeners and took the watering can from them, giving it to the noble child gently before just watching as Julia slowly stood up. Her breathing was laboured, an indication that another attack was soon coming if she didn't take it easy, and the servant noticed Lydia walking towards them. Standing up quickly, she gave the aristocrat a bow before leaving the woman and her niece._

 _Julia paid no attention as Lydia placed a hand on her small shoulder, her words soft and full of sympathy when she suggested. "How about we go inside? We can read your favourite book together?"_

 _Saying nothing, Julia passed the watering can back to the gardener, the man accepting it with a short nod, and then she disappeared back in the empty house with her aunt. Not once did she spare another glance at the rose bush growing in the spot she and her mother used to play together._

Walking back inside the home, she welcomed the feeling of the roaring fire on her skin, the goosebumps on her arms disappearing with the warmth. Rubbing them to get rid of the rest of the cold, she moved to the bookshelves that adorned the walls within the library, scanning through the books that she kept as a child. Most of them were stereotypical fairy tales, except much more darker. Most ended in death and despair, with the villains often getting fates that involved their feet being roasted over fires or being bludgeoned to death by angry crowds. Thinking back on it, she wondered why her mother allowed a young child to be reading these book, and yet again Esma was mostly drunk when she read these books to Julia. She didn't mind the drunken slur in her voice, in fact when she did the voices of the villains it only added to the humour.

Her eyes paused on a book, the subject written inside it entirely different to the children stories of the surrounding books. It was on the subject of the Outsider, the supernatural being that the Abbey of the Everyman condemned as heretical. Deeply religious herself, Julia never touched the book and often judged it as nonsense despite never reading it. Looking over the thick leather cover, she read the words carved into the cover with raised eyebrows. _Spirit of the Deep._

"What useless drivel." She muttered, shoving the book back into the bookcase with an unimpressed look. Instead, she moved to the more grown up books that she often saw Lydia reading when younger. A musical genius her aunt was, and it seemed to be the trait that Julia inherited from the family, as her grandmother was known to possess the ability to carry a tune as well. Taking out one of the books about famous musicians, she moved to the fireplace whilst opening it. Inside was pictures and information about all the famous musicians that ever lived, the writing small and densely packed on each page.

Flicking through the pages halfheartedly, she didn't hear someone entering the library from behind her. Due to being premature, and her birth not exactly a natural one as well, she had developed some health issues like her breathing difficulties. Along with that, her hearing wasn't the best compared to her other family, or even the other guests in her home. Typically, she would be around someone when she was younger, and only when she reached adulthood was she allowed to spend time on her own. The only time she noticed the presence of the person was the hand landing on her shoulder. Her heart stopped, the ache in her chest welling up and she quickly turned around; face wide with fear and shock before she recognized the person in front of her.

Daniel, with messier hair and darker eyes, stood there and grumbled to himself. Unable to understand what he was saying, Julia just placed the book on the marble fireplace and questioned him. "Is there anything you want, Daniel?"

"Do you love me?" His question was sudden. Caught off guard, Julia was shocked by his blunt way of asking if she felt anything for him, and she knew by the haze over his eyes that he was completely blathered.

Choosing her next words carefully, she placed her hand on top of his with a smile. "I do care about yo-"

"That's not what I asked." He snapped, his tone low and yet so vicious as his grip tightened on her shoulder, his other hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand off of his. "I asked if you love me?"

"Daniel, you're hurting me!" she snapped, all tact and grace fleeing when she felt the painful grip on her wrist and shoulder. She squirmed violently, trying desperately to escape his grip and yet failed due to his superior strength. Her struggling only seemed to enrage the drunken lord even more, his face contorting into rage when he released her shoulder, instead grabbing both wrists and pulling her closer to him, her face so close to his that she could smell the revolting whiff of alcohol on his breath.

"I know you have feeling for me, Julia! Why won't you admit it?! Why?!" he screamed in her face. She was frightened, trying so hard to escape from his hold and moved her face away from his, looking out at the unaware guests that were chatting away just next door. Loud cheering could be hear.

"Daniel, stop this!" she begged. Powerless, she was forced into the wall by her attacker, his lips crashing against hers in a drunken stupor. Thoughts raced through her mind, her eyes shutting tight as she heard him mumbling something, before they opened again and widened in sheer fright. Before her was not Daniel anymore, and instead of the drunken stares all she could see was a metal mask, the glass eyes staring straight into hers with frightening coldness. Her heartbeat was frantic, the feeling in her chest tightening as she looked around for a way to escape, before they fell on the antique glass statue that Waverly felt the need to put everywhere in the mansion. Freeing one of her hands, she stretched to reach it, frantically brushing her fingertips against her weapon until she managed to stretch far enough to grab it.

Staring back at the masked attacker, she pushed him back with all her might, and when he was finally off her did she then smack him over the head with the statue. The loud shattering sound of glass echoed through the air, along with the pained screams of the victim, Julia looking away from the scene as she saw blood flowing out from the open wound on her attacker's head. When she heard shocked gasps and murmurs did she turn back, seeing Daniel once again instead of the masked man. Glancing around, she saw the guests entering the library, all of them staring at the bleeding Daniel on the floor, and then at the panting Julia who still had the half broken statue in her hand.

Her aunts pushed through the crowd, both shocked to see the scene before them. Waverly stared at Julia with shock and embarrassment, whereas Lydia was concerned for her niece and tried to move towards her, only to stop when Julia raised her hand. Staring back down at the injured Daniel, she muttered apologies to him and then ran, pushing roughly through the group of whispering aristocrats. In the main hall, her heels clicked loudly as she proceeded to run up the stairs, her breath leaving her as she continued to run. Only when she rushed down the hallway and reach the door that led to her bedroom did she slow down, shoving the door open and slamming it shut behind her.

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of her lamp sitting on the crafted drawers, the mirror reflecting the whole room spotlessly. Her bed was pushed up against the wall, the four poster hanging a curtain across the wooden frame that hide the sleeping person from the view outside. The curtains were heavy and thick, designed to keep the cold out and were in style amongst the rich, sitting in front of the beautifully crafted window. A thick rug sat on the cold, wooden floor, the feeling of it missed by Julia's feet as they were trapped in her uncomfortable shoes. Moving towards her bed, she proceeded to tug her shoes off her feet, throwing them across the room as they collided with the wall opposite her, sliding down onto the floor.

Immediately, she began to strip, eager to get rid of the clothes that her attacker had touched. She made a note to burn them, before casting them aside onto the floor, and moved to her drawers to take out her expensive pyjamas instead. Pausing, she glanced at her reflection in the polished mirror, staring at the reflection that was staring back at her. Her hair had came out of the bun slight, some of the hairs popping out of the bobble and giving her a messy look, with red eyes and bruised lips. Her shoulder was already bruising, and her wrist ached from the force that Daniel grabbed her with. She couldn't bear to look at herself anymore. It made her feel sick to the stomach thinking about what could have happened. Pulling her drawers out, she took out her night clothes and slipped them on, sparing not a single glance at her mirror as she returned to her bed.

Slipping under the cover, she just laid there staring at the wall, listening as the party continued downstairs despite the attack that just happened. She didn't know what became of Daniel when she fled the scene, no doubt he lied about what happened and made her seem like the insane woman who just attacked him. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she just shoved her face in her pillow to try and convince herself to fall asleep.

That night, she did not succeed in getting any sleep.


	2. Night Fell As Morning Came

" _She laid in bed with covers over head, resembling the child that she once was. Life would soon find its way into her life once more, and night fell as the morning came."_

The next morning was no better than the night before, as when Julia woke up she was welcomed with no silver tray that had her coffee and breakfast on. The maid that brought it up was nowhere to be found either. Confused, she pulled the thick duvet from on top of her, looking around to see if the maid had put the tray somewhere else, and was annoyed when she couldn't find it anywhere in the room. In her mind, she knew that Waverly had stopped the maid so Julia was forced to come downstairs instead; no doubt so that she could talk to the heir about the mishap that happened last night at the party. She couldn't even think about what happened, much less want to talk about it to her aunts. What would she even say? She was in the library and Daniel Brisby attempted to rape her.

Doubt began to claw at her. He was kissing her and forcing her against the wall, but she didn't know if he would have taken it farther. Maybe, he just wanted that or he would have snapped out of that drunken stupor and realise what he was doing. She wondered what would have happened if she didn't defend herself, her face staring at the reflection in her mirror as she just watched her features. Her lips had died down, and her eyes were no longer red, but she still had that same expression as she did last night. Afraid and undignified. The voice in her head was angry, snapping at her for thinking these foolish thoughts.

If she didn't defend herself, she would have left that situation in a worse state. Her mind was telling her that, but at the same time she doubted the truthness in those words. Besides that, she thought about who she saw instead of Daniel, and her heart tightened when she realised who it was. The same mask that she saw ten years ago, only its wearer was standing over her mother's body, blood splattered on his navy coat and the sword her used to end her life clutched tightly in his worn hands. Last night wasn't the first time that she mistook someone for that killer, but it was the first time they were that close to her. She was face to face with her worst fear.

She couldn't understand why she was having these visions.

Shaking her head free of those thoughts, she instead stood up slowly, rotating her sore shoulder in an attempt to rid herself of the unpleasant feeling. She brought her wrists up into her view, unsurprised to see bruises forming under her delicately pale skin. Lowering them again, she briskly walked over to her drawers, pulling them open to reveal her clothes, skimming through them to pull out a cream coloured shirt. Looking it over, she approved silently and turned her gaze back to within her draw, pulling out matching black jacket and pants. Her aunts must have been really upset with their niece, as they haven't even sent a maid up to take Julia's outfit out and lay it for her when she awoken.

It was strange having to pick out her own outfit. Nonetheless, she seemed to like the independence that came from it, as having maids at your every beck and call got tedious to someone who's had someone breathing over their shoulder all their life. The fact that she was chronically ill didn't help the matters, and just made her aunts more restricting with their rules. Whilst just a child, she wasn't even allowed on her own, and after Esma's death it was either Lydia or a maid that read bedtime stories to Julia, or often she found herself sleeping with her aunt when the nightmares were too much. Being the only child of the three Boyle sisters had their perks, if one would ignore the stifling loneliness from both being an only child and a member of a high status noble family.

Her pyjamas slid off her thin body with ease, being picked up and left on the bed for the maids to clean up, before she just grabbed her shirt. Ignoring the large bruise on her shoulder, she pulled her arms through the sleeves and pulled the shirt over her shoulders, buttoning the beautiful white buttons up to her collarbones, exposing her neck. Next, she grabbed her pants and pulled them up her long legs, tucking her shirt into the pants before fastening the button. Afterwards, she just grabbed the matching jacket and began fastening the buttons up to her chest, looking over at her reflection with a soft smile. She may sound vain to the other nobles and staff, but she did acknowledge that she was beautiful in a way. Her picked clothes complimented her figure, and then she noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes, looking over at the closet where most of her shoes were, beside the drawers.

Opening them, she stared at the numerous pairs of shoes that she had, something that she enjoyed being a noble. If there was something she loved, it was her pairs of shoes, and her favourite black heels were sitting near the bottom of the closet on the rack, a smile on the heir's face when she picked them up. Slipping them on, she stood slightly higher than she was before, moving back to the mirror as she undid the bun she left in last night. Free, her hair fell down to just past her shoulders, covering her ears and framing her face nicely. Staring at her reflection, she pondered whether she left it down or tie it back up, deciding to keep it down for the special occasion today.

Today was the day that her mother died, and every year she paid respects at her grave along with her aunts. Dread filled her stomach, and yet she was happy to visit her mother's grave at the same time, the amount of emotions that contradicted themselves confusing to the woman. Nevertheless, she just picked up the hairbrush that Esma used to own, the handle decorated with beautiful jewels that whilst beautiful, was very uncomfortable to handle. Looking back up at her reflection, she pulled the brush through her dark locks, humming to herself as she did so. As she was doing this, there was a soft knock on the door, Julia's eyes moving to the door's reflection in the mirror as she called out. "Come in!"

There was a slight wait before the person behind the door decided to obey, opening it to reveal one of the senior maids that helped raise Julia throughout her childhood. Recognizing who it was, Julia continued to brush her hair with a smile, her voice soft when she asked the maid. "What is it, Diana?"

"Your aunts want to have a word with you, Julia. About last night…" she explained, her voice quiet when she spoke the last sentence. A frown quickly replaced Julia's smile, as her suspicions were confirmed true, and she just continued brushing her hair when Diana asked. "Forgive me if you don't want to talk about it, dear, but what exactly happened between you and Lord Brisby?"

Julia didn't reply, but by the way she paused in her activity alerted the maid that the subject was sensitive. The silence in the room quickly turned suffocating, like a thick blanket that fallen over the both of them, and Julia could see that Diana was getting more and more awkward as time passed. Slowly, she placed her hairbrush on the drawers and gestured for her maid to close the door, watching as she obeyed and did so. Waiting for her to turn back around, Julia was silent as Diana walked over to where she was standing, her face distracted when the memories of that incident flooded back. With a solemn face, Julia explained. "Daniel was very… ungentlemanly in his advances to me."

"How do you…?" Diana moved to question, before the question died in her throat and she thought about what Julia was hinting at. Her face slowly began to fall when she finally realized what she was talking about, her eyes staring at Julia's stoic expression when she asked. "Did he do anything to you?"

"Besides kissing and roughing me up? No. That was when I hit him with my aunt's statue." She confessed, swearing that she could feel the weight of the glass statue in her hand.

"I advise that you tell your aunts, my lady." The maid suggested, her hands neatly folded in front of her when she added. "It's best if it was now. They are not in a great mood today, Lady Waverly moreso. I will clean up your room whilst you're gone."

"Thank you, Diana." Julia thanked, moving past the maid when she heard her speak up again. "My condolences for today as well, my lady."

Julia paused, her hand resting on the knob of her door, staring at it with her back to Diana before she just mumbled. "I appreciate that."

With that, she left her bedroom and stood outside in the hallway, closing the door behind her as she just listened to the commotion with her home. The servants noisily passed her, chatting away to each other as they continued their duties, and more could be heard down the hallway and downstairs. None of them were louder than her Aunt Waverly, who's loud and enraged voice could be heard from Serkonos, a shrill exclamation banging against Julia's temples as she listened to her aunt scream. "Does she realize what she has done?!"

Another voice replied, softer and quieter than the grating voice before, the heir recognizing it as Lydia whilst she began walking towards the staircase. "Let's be calm about this, Waverly. I'm sure there's a perfect explanation to last night."

"A perfect explanation?! She's maimed the main candidate for her hand, and embarrassed us in front of all the noble houses!" An eyebrow raised by the heir as she reached the staircase, waiting at the top when she heard Waverly add. "Daniel would have been the perfect match for her! There was chemistry since they were children!"

"Are you serious? The girl hated him, and he was just a cowardice snake who wanted Julia to gloat about having a beautiful wife. He is an exact copy of his disgusting father." Lydia rebuted, the disgust she held to the Brisby family evident in her voice. "Besides, there are plenty of men that want her."

"Not after that show last night! They'll think she's suffering from brain fevers, or worse that she's gone insane! Our reputation is on the line, Lydia, why are you being so calm about it?!"

Julia began walking down the stairs, surprised when she heard her aunt reply. "Because right now, I care for Julia's well being more."

There was a stunned silence. Waverly had nothing to reply to that, and was shown to be confused over what to say when Julia reached the bottom of the stairs, seeing her aunts sitting in the library off to the side of the main hall. Whereas Lydia was sitting comfortable on the couch within the room, Waverly herself was standing in front of the fireplace, the fire having been put out in the morning. The youngest sister looked worried, her fingers falling victim to her teeth as she chewed on them, her face looking at the bookcases to the side of the room, and such didn't notice her niece entering the room until Lydia spotted her. "Good morning, Julia."

Noticing her presence finally, Waverly snapped her head in her niece's direction, the anger written clearly in her face as she closed the distance between them. "What happened last night, Julia?!"

"You saw what happened last night." She shot back, in no mood to be treated like she was in the wrong. "Daniel got too close to me, so I hit him over the head with your statue. Apologies for that, by the way."

"Forget about the statue! What do you mean 'got too close'?! Do you even realise what you've done with our reputation, how the other noble families are probably laughing at our embarrassment of an heir?!"

"You sound paranoid!" Julia pointed out, her eyebrows knitted together in rage.

From her side, she could hear Lydia just scoff. "She always sound paranoid."

"One of us has to think about these things! Daniel was one of the best nobles to marry you to, and you ruined that chance when he bludgeoned him with my priceless statue!" Waverly snapped, clearly enraged by the lack of seriousness her sister and niece are showing to the situation.

"He's a dog!" Julia retorted, finally losing her composure when she added in a harsh whisper. "You want to know why I hit him? Because he decided that he was tired of waiting and tried to force himself on me."

Both of the sisters were stunned. Waverly's rage died down quickly as her face showed nothing but shock, and Lydia herself was unable to hide the concern she felt towards her niece. Neither of them had anything to say, so Julia decided to elaborate further on the matter. "When I looked at his face, I saw him… That mask. It was the one the guy who murdered my mother was wearing. So I panicked, and I struck Daniel."

"You saw him again?" Waverly asked, glancing around the room when she pressed the issue. "Are you sure it was him?"

"I have no doubt over his identity, aunt." Julia confirmed, watching as Waverly moved away from her and returned to pacing in front of the fireplace, her nails once again being chewed on anxiously. Glancing over at her other aunt, she could see that Lydia was deep in thought, her face stoic as her thoughts remained a mystery to the youngest Boyle. Whilst they both thought about what their niece just told them, Julia stood there, watching them both, trying to find a way to get rid of the heavy air.

Thinking about the occasion today, she decided that it was better than nothing and spoke up. "You both know what day it is, don't you?"

"We haven't forgotten." Lydia confirmed, being pulled out of her deep thoughts by the question. "We'll be visiting her grave later on today."

"You should go and eat. The servants will make you breakfast, go on." Waverly dismissed, not even looking at her niece when she waved her off. Julia just sighed quietly, sneaking a glance with Lydia before turning around, leaving the room when she heard Waverly add. "And what happened last night, keep quiet about it. We don't want anyone gossiping about us."

"Yes, aunt." The heir obeyed, continuing her way along the main hall to the dining room, pushing the heavy oak doors open to reveal the magnificent room within. The ceiling was lavished in gold fabric, the light from the lamps shining through and casting the entire room in a lovely glow, a sharp contrast to the dark maroon walls. In the middle of the room sat the large dining table, capable of catering to dozens of people including Julia and her aunts. The surface of the table was covered in a cream coloured cloth, the ends a maroon colour that matched the walls, and candles were standing in the middle and both ends of the table; more decorative than practical given the light from the lamps above and that coming from the open windows, the curtains pulled back to the sides.

Briskly, she walked over to the table when a servant appeared in the room, noticing the noble woman and bowing to her, following her over to her chair at the end of the table before asking her. "What would you like today, my lady?"

"Just the usual." She grumbled, looking down at her hands lying on the soft table cloth. The food that was laid on the table for the guests of the party last night had already been cleared, no doubt thrown into the streets as scraps for the homeless and occasional rat that survived the Rat Plague all those years ago. Instead, it was empty. Sighing again, she rubbed her eyes with her hand, trying to stifle a headache that was coming on, something she hoped eating and having a drink would stop.

Honestly, she wasn't surprised anymore by Waverly's antics, knowing that she valued the reputation of their family rather than her niece's wellbeing. However, thinking about having to keep quiet when Daniel was free to walk, no doubt sitting in his home stewing over the rejection, it made her sick to her stomach. The rage and hate that she felt to the man was bubbling inside her, and she found herself wishing a cruel and unusual death on the noble. Despite being averse to violence, even before her mother's murder, she felt like this was the one exception she was willing to make. Everyone else may have insulted her behind her back, as per to being part of noble class, but what Daniel nearly did to her was unforgivable.

She continued to tear herself up with these thoughts, hardly realising the food that was put in front of her on the silver tray, the smell of her morning coffee wafting up into her nostrils and pulling her out of her thoughts. Looking down at it, she suddenly lost her appetite for her favourite breakfast; poached eggs, seasoned, on toasted bread with meat and jellied eels on a separate plate, the cup of coffee black in colour with only a dash of milk in it. Taking the milk, she kept it under her nose and smelled the liquid, pleased with the aromatic scent. The servant who brought it to her said nothing, instead bowing to her and leaving the heir to carry on with his other duties.

Watching as he left, she took a sip of her drink, enjoying the bitter taste to it, before setting it back down on the tray. Instead, she stared at her breakfast with an unpleasant expression, trying to find the strength to push past her sick feeling and attempt to eat some, picking up with fork and knife. Jabbing the fork into her eggs, she cut them up with a knife and watched the yellow yolk flowing out, absorbing into the toast underneath it. Slowly, she brought it up to her mouth and ate it, testing the taste and texture of her food, before she decided that the food was edible. The cook always knew how to cook her food the way she liked it, and she wondered if the cook that cooked for her as a child was still working here, sure that she heard her aunts talking about replacing him over the dinner table.

Nonetheless, she sat there and enjoyed her breakfast, forcing herself to eat all of it so that she would have the strength for today. With an empty plate, she just sat back with her cup in her hands again, enjoying the heat radiating from her beverage into her cold hands. Over a while, she took a sip after another, thinking about the grave she'll be visiting later on in the day. She hoped that the gardeners laid fresh flowers, and cleaned the headstone like she asked them, before she scolded herself for thinking something that silly. Of course the gardeners would have done what she asked them, as they worked for her and seemed to not want to lose their jobs, but she was worried regardless. She just wanted the grave to be perfect.

Staring down into her cup, she saw that most of the coffee had been drunk, leaving only a small amount at the bottom. She placed it back down on the tray, standing up from her chair and making her way across the dining room, exiting through the oak doors again but instead leaving them open. Standing in the main hall, she pondered on what she would do to pass the time until they left, deciding to avoid the library and instead make her way to the music room, avoiding the smoking room in fear that the smoke staining the curtains and wood would set off her breathing problems again.

The music room was beautiful, the walls the same colour as the dining room with light wood floors, the light coming in from the window at the end of the room and illuminating the whole space. A harpsichord sat in the middle in front of the fireplace, the fire inside long extinguished and left only ashes and burnt logs in the crevice, above hanging a painting made by Anton Sokolov. Of a woman not from the family, Julia never understood why her aunts had it hanging up, and refused to look at it when it started giving her goosebumps. Instead, she moved towards the harpsichord, sitting down on the seat while looking at the ivory keys.

Hovering her fingers over them, she swiped through the mental library of music that she learned over the years from Lydia, finally choosing one that suited her mood. The tune carried through the air was melancholy, her fingers dancing over the keys with grace, painting a picture for those who were blind through the art of music. Her mind went over the song, something that she played constantly throughout her life, and yet it was the only piece she knew that could, without a doubt, be classed as sad.

Her family loved showing her taste for music off; Lydia more than anyone, but she had seen Waverly complimenting her skills to other nobles whilst she played. It was the only time the woman had anything nice to say about her niece. As a child, she would play any tunes that the nobles asked her to play, watching their fake smiles and insults disguised as nice words, and often she found herself feeling like she was a trained animal; performing tricks for the amused looks on the onlookers fat faces. She loathed it. Rather, she prefered to play for her family, and often the servants gave her genuine compliments rather than snide comments on how she wasn't better than some other noble's child.

The couches that sat behind the instrument and off to the side in front of it were there so people could enjoy the music sitting down. Parties spent entertaining people as they lounged on those couches, most drinking heavily and making drunken boasts whilst she continued to play, trying hard to ignore the distractions and carry on playing. As an older woman, she tuned out all distractions that were going on out of that room, and instead watched in awe as her fingers glided over the keys, the tune carrying in the air and filled the whole room. Reaching the end of the song, her movements slowed down, eyes watching her fingers slowing until a complete stop, the tune echoing in the room until it too died out.

Sitting there, she just stared at the keys with an unreadable expression, looking around to find that no one was in the room with her. It was strange. She enjoyed the isolation, and yet yearned for the attention. Confused with herself, she just moved to grab a sheet of music that was lying on top of the instrument, reading over the musical notes written on it in black ink. It was a happier tune, she could tell that much, but it was one of the few she had difficulty in performing. Accepting the challenge silently, she placed it at eye level on the harpsichord and stretched her hands, splaying her fingers out widely before she began playing.

This piece of music was more difficult, definitely, and she found herself often missing a key or playing the wrong pitch, finding herself getting more and more frustrated with her hands, as if it was their fault that she couldn't do this. Suddenly, she just slammed her fist against the keys and an inhuman screech rang through the air, the sound of the door opening hidden by this cacophony. Feeling as if someone was in the room with her, Julia turned her head and felt the surprise die down when she noticed that it was only Lydia. With a smile on her face, she giggled softly and pointed out. "You're having difficulty with that, aren't you?"

"It's frustrating. I can do numerous other pieces of music, but I can't seem to stretch my fingers that far to do these keys." Their heir grumbled, moving up a bit as her aunt sat down next to her. It was almost like she was young again, and first being taught how to play these types of instruments. Slowly, she watched as Lydia glanced at the sheet of music and began to play it, making the whole action seem effortless. The way her fingers glided over the keys were mesmerizing, and her niece couldn't help but feel inferior to the older woman's obvious skill in this trade.

"Often the case with music, you have to let your fingers work the keys, instead of thinking about it." Lydia instructed, noting Julia's confused expression with a humoured smirk. "Don't worry yourself about it. It took me years to master this piece, I'm sure you'll manage it soon enough."

"I enjoy the time we spend together, Aunt Lydia." Julia admitted, watching as she continued to play the music piece. "I feel like now, you're the only one I can really talk to, and share my interests with. Aunt Waverly just treats me like I don't exist, or as a mistake my mother made at worst."

"Waverly has never been the loving type, Julia. It's just how she is. She wouldn't even look Esma in the eyes when she confessed to us that she was pregnant with you, mostly because she wasn't married and the man who got her pregnant wasn't exactly the fittest human to raise you." Lydia brushed off, her tone harsh when she thought about her sister. "Sometimes, I find myself wondering what it would be like if she was Burrow's mistress rather than Esma."

"The man who killed my mother would have killed her instead."

"I know." Lydia's voice dropped in volume, and she sounded very blunt in her wording. "Maybe, we would have been better off, or we could be worse. I guess we'll never really know."

"You know who my father is, why has nobody told me?" Julia asked, curiosity gnawing in the back of her mind.

Lydia was stunned, unable to think of the best way to let the woman down gently, and instead just elected to tell her outright. "There is no point in telling you. He was a dog, and you're better off without him, as was your mother."

The blunt way of telling her struck Julia, her face flinching as if someone had just slapped her with all their might, and then she just accepted the truth with dignity. The two sat in silence, the sound of the harpsichord no longer floating through the air, and only the sound of the busy servants outside could be heard through the door. Julia couldn't even look at her aunt anymore. Maybe she was right, and the younger Boyle was better off not knowing who her father was, but at the same time she had the right to know and decide for herself. It made no difference. It wasn't her father who raised Julia from infancy to who she was today, that was her mother, aunts and the servants.

Stuck in her thoughts, she remained still when Lydia suggested. "How about I teach you how to play the more advance music sheets?"

With a nod, she watched the older woman grab more of the sheet on top of the instrument, and the two began learning the music art throughout the morning, carrying on into the afternoon before they would have to stop the time they were enjoying and go visit the cold reality of life. Esma's grave.


End file.
